


"Yes, Captain Watson"

by anyalevsyou



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, M/M, Military Kink, Military Uniforms, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top John, literally just pure porn, with a military kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyalevsyou/pseuds/anyalevsyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Now, look what you’ve done, you’ve given me a hard-on right before I have to leave. You need to be punished for your insolence, Soldier.” Sherlock made a high-pitched keening sound that he would have been dreadfully ashamed of, had he been able to process any thought besides that of John Watson’s cock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Yes, Captain Watson"

**Author's Note:**

> I would say I'm sorry but we all know I'd be lying.

Sherlock gripped the soft, worn armrests of his chair, trying to hide how hard his hands were shaking. He crossed his legs, closing his eyes, hoping John would just leave.

“Sherlock, are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Of course he wouldn’t be so lucky.

“I’m fine,” he replied in a slightly choked voice, still not opening his eyes. If he did, and saw John in his military uniform again, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control his actions. Though their relationship had changed significantly when John came back to live with him again, with lingering touches and long glances, Sherlock knew it would be inappropriate for him to jump his flatmate out of the blue.

“Sherlock, are you sure? Let me take your temperature,” John said, coming close to Sherlock. He could smell him—cheap aftershave and the generic brand of deodorant, and underneath it, the smell of tea and John. Sherlock held his breath wanting to leave, but knowing if he got up, his arousal would be blatantly apparent.

“I’m fine, _John_. Go, you’ll be late to your…whatever it is you’re going to,” Sherlock said through gritted teeth. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. He cursed himself for not listening to John when he talked. Maybe then he would have had some kind of forewarning.

He had always known that his…appreciation for military fatigues would get him trouble one day. Merely the knowledge that John was a military man had given him something to wank about for weeks, not to mention when John had pulled rank at Baskerville. He could feel a drop of sweat roll down his back at the memory. He shivered, despite himself.

“Sherlock, come on, go lie down I’ll make you some tea and take your temperature. You really don’t look good.” Sherlock could almost see the concerned look on John’s face. The way his eyebrows would furrow and his mouth would curl downward in displeasure.

It took nearly everything in him to keep his eyes closed.

“Leave me alone, John, I’m fine!” Sherlock explained, moving to shove Jon away from him, but he miscalculated (his eyes were still closed, after all) and suddenly found himself in exactly the position he didn’t want to be—with his dressing gown wide open, making the tent in his pants painfully clear.

John looked down at it with red cheeks and cleared his throat.

“I see…” he said softly. Then he looked down at himself and once again at Sherlock. “Is it the…uh…?” he asked, gesturing toward himself—or, more specifically, the army fatigues. Sherlock gave a curt nod and curled himself into a ball, not meeting John’s eyes.

All of the sudden, he felt a hand in his hair, carding through it lightly at first, before gripping it tightly and forcing his head back. He gasped, the feeling going straight to his already impossibly hard cock.

“Look at me when I speak to you…Soldier,” John said, his voice rumbling through Sherlock’s chest. He gasped again and tried not to writhe in his chair. John didn’t look disgusted, like Sherlock had thought he would, but rather aroused. When Sherlock glanced down, he noticed John was sporting a rather impressive erection of his own.

“Yes, Captain,” Sherlock replied, his voice hoarse with arousal. John sucked in a breath, his pupils blown wide.

“Now, look what you’ve done, you’ve given me hard-on right before I have to leave. You need to be punished for your insolence, Soldier.” Sherlock made a high-pitched keening sound that he would have been dreadfully ashamed of, had he been able to process any thought besides that of John Watson’s cock.

“Yes, please,” he all but whined. The hand in his hair tightened and he thought he was going to come right there on the spot—there was no way John could have known his follicles were so sensitive.

“Please, what?” John said firmly.

“Please let me suck your cock, Sir,” Sherlock said, his cheeks flushed. John sucked in a breath.

“Alright, but make it quick, I don’t want to be late,” John said, letting go of Sherlock’s hair. The taller man scrambled to get on his knees before him, shaking fingers making quick work of his trousers. He would normally have drawn it out longer, but he knew John was in no mood to be teased.

He stopped for a moment when he pulled out John’s erection. He couldn’t help moaning a bit when he took it in his hand—feeling the heavy size of it in his palm. Christ, he wanted it inside him. He had always known John was large—it was an easy enough deduction—but it was entirely different to be face to face with it.

“Get on with it,” John growled above him, once again fisting his hand in Sherlock’s curls. Sherlock licked it once from root to tip, before taking the smooth head into his mouth and lightly swirling his tongue around the slit. John moaned, throwing his head back, and Sherlock shivered, pressing his palm against his own erection to give himself some relief.

He worked his way down the thick shaft, bobbing his head and getting John in deeper and deeper each time. Before long, the tip of John’s cock had reached the back of his throat and nose was buried in the sparse hair surrounding John’s cock, happy that he hadn’t forgotten how to do this in his long years of celibacy.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sherlock,” he groaned, looking down to see Sherlock’s perfect lips stretched around his cock, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Sherlock held him there for a few moments before choking and pulling back. John moaned at the sound and thrust into Sherlock’s warm mouth without thinking. He hit the back of Sherlock throat and he choked again.

“Fuck, sorry,” he muttered, pulling back, but Sherlock hummed around his cock and held him there, wanting more. “Oh, fuck,” John cursed again, gripping his hair and thrusting in again, slowly. Sherlock moaned around his cock, and John groaned in response when he could feel the vibrations down his shaft.

He kept thrusting, gradually getting faster and more forceful. Sherlock was loving every second. John was gripping his hair tight enough to force tears down his cheeks, and he kept choking on John’s thick cock, but he had never been happier.

“Fuck, yes, Sherlock, you were fucking made for this, to be on your knees, mouth full of cock, _God, yes_ ,” John groaned, his thrusts getting more erratic and Sherlock knew he must be getting close. He fought hard to keep his hands off his own cock when he heard John talking to him like that.

Before long—much, much too soon in Sherlock’s opinion—John was pulling back.

“Sherlock, I’m—I’m coming,” he gasped. Sherlock just took him deeper and swallowed around the head. John threw his head back and groaned, coming deep down Sherlock’s throat. “Fuck, yes.”

When he was done, Sherlock pulled back with an obscene pop and grinned, lips red and swollen.

“Jesus if I had known you could suck cock like that I wouldn’t have waited so long,” John said, voice hoarse, tucking himself back into his pants. Sherlock palmed himself through his trousers, hoping John would take the hint. John grinned, his eye glinting.

“Oh no, you’ll have to wait until I get back to take care of that,” he said grinning evilly. Sherlock felt his grin drop like stone from the sky.

“What? But you’ll be hours!” he protested. John’s grin widened.

“I did say you needed to be punished, didn’t I?” he said. “And don’t you dare touch yourself—I’ll know and it’ll be that much worse for you.” Sherlock groaned, his hand falling away from his trousers, the thin cotton jutting out obscenely. John looked down at it hungrily and licked his lips, knowing the action would torture Sherlock—he was right. The detective’s breathing sped up and his eyes were hooded as they followed the movement of John’s tongue.

“I should be back in a few hours,” John said lightly, leaving Sherlock still kneeling on the ground, “be good.” He left with a wink.

 

 

Sherlock groaned in frustration. He had tried everything to get rid of the sight of John in his military fatigues. Not even continuing his experiment kept his mind occupied enough to forget the feeling of being on his knees with the heavy weight of John’s cock filling his mouth.

He took a deep, shuddering breath when he thought about it again. He had to stop thinking about it. He gripped the cushions of the coach where he was sprawled out so his hands wouldn’t involuntarily touch his erection.

He buried his face deeper into the cushion, the worn leather muffling his keening cry. He couldn’t go on like this much longer.

If John wasn’t home soon he would have to just wank and accept the consequences. He pulled his trousers down and away from his heated, oversensitive skin, enjoying the brief calm as the cool air of their sitting room hit his cock.

The relief was momentary, however, and within seconds, he was back in his hell. His cock was aching and he could feel it throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

Just when he was at his last string of self-control, the door was flung open and Captain Watson strode in.

“Oh, thank _God_ ,” Sherlock exclaimed. “John please I’m dying.”

John sucked in a breath when he saw Sherlock spread out on the sofa, legs wide and cock indecently exposed.

“Look at you, you look beautiful. So desperate for me. You were a good boy, weren’t you? You didn’t touch yourself? I know how you like to misbehave.”

“No, John! Please, I was such a good boy for you, please,” Sherlock said, struggling to stand up on shaky legs and all but crawling to where John stood. He kneeled next to the shorter man and pressed his face into John’s thigh, smelling him.

“Yes, yes alright I believe you,” said John, running his fingers through Sherlock’s soft curls, causing a shiver to run through the man. “My, aren’t you pretty when you beg?”

“ _Please_ , John, please. I _need_ it,” whimpered Sherlock, looking up at John through his lashes.

“Need what, Sherlock?”

“Your _cock_ , John, please I want it inside me, I want to come with it inside me, _please_ ,”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, why don’t you head over to your bedroom, and we’ll see about making that happen.” Sherlock couldn’t seem get up fast enough. He made his way as fast as he could to his bedroom, shedding clothes along the way, with John trailing slowly behind, smirking.

When John entered the room, Sherlock was sprawled on the bed, naked, with a bottle of lube in his hand. He shoved it at John with a pleading look on his face.

“John, please, it hurts,” he begged. John’s smirk grew as he took the small bottle from Sherlock’s shaking fingers.

“That’s Captain to you, Soldier. Slip up again and I won’t let you come at all tonight.” A shudder ran through Sherlock at the words.

“Yes, Captain Watson,” he whispered.

“Good boy,” replied John. He kneeled in between Sherlock’s spread legs and ran his hands down his pale thighs, licking his lips. “My, aren’t you just gorgeous?”

Sherlock keened, thrusting his hips toward John, his cock red and leaking profusely. John licked his lips again. He popped the cap of the lube open and poured some of the cool liquid over his fingers, warming it up. He trailed a finger lightly down the underside of Sherlock’s cock, earning himself and breathy moan and another impatient “John.” With another smirk, John fingered at the tight ring on muscle, not quite slipping his finger in yet.

“John I swear, if you don’t put that finger inside me”—

Sherlock broke off with a hoarse curse as John slipped the tip of his finger quickly. He slowly pushed his finger all the way in.

“Christ, you’re tight,” he grunted, adjusting himself with his free hand. His trousers were getting uncomfortably tight.

“Well I would have prepared myself before you came home, but I was told I wasn’t allowed to touch,” said Sherlock. John slapped the inside of his thigh sharply.

“Aren’t you cheeky? Let’s get you a little less coherent, shall we?” said John, as he set about doing just that, adding a second finger and scissoring them gently. He found his prostate in seconds and—sparing a quick mental thank you for all the anatomy classes he had to take in uni—stroked it lightly. Sherlock gasped and arched off the bed, his fingers twisting in the sheets of his bed.

“Yes, John, right there, again,” he exclaimed, and John quickly avoided it, simply because Sherlock had told him what to do. “Bastard.”

“You don’t give the orders here, Soldier. Respect me, or I’ll make sure you won’t gain any pleasure at all from this,” said John firmly.

“Yes, sir,” Sherlock gasped.

“Good boy.” John reward him with another brush against his prostate before adding another finger and pumping, watching Sherlock’s slick hole stretch around them. With a harsh breath, John unlaced his trousers and pulled his stiff, throbbing cock out.

“Yes,” hissed Sherlock when he saw.

“Are you ready for me, Soldier?” John asked, his voice rough with arousal.

“Yes, yes, yes, John do it please!” cried Sherlock, gripping the sheets with slender fingers. John pulled his fingers from Sherlock and watched his hole gape open. He was so aroused he could barely breathe. He roughly spread some lube on his cock before suddenly stiffening.

“Sherlock what about”—

“It’s fine, we’re both clean.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, John, please!” John slapped his thigh again.

“What was that, Soldier?”

“I’m sorry Captain, please Sir,” whined Sherlock, all but thrashing on the bed. John decided to let it go just this once, mostly because he was so aroused he couldn’t see straight. He lined his cock up with Sherlock’s hole and thrust in, in one smooth motion.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed as Sherlock’s tight heat engulfed him.

“John!” yelled Sherlock, seeing stars as. John pulled out slowly, letting Sherlock feel every ridge and every vein. He watched as dark curls spread out on the white pillow as Sherlock threw his head back and as sweat glistened over his smooth skin.

When all but the tip was in Sherlock, he thrust in again, and Sherlock cursed.

“More, Captain,” Sherlock gasped, clenching around John’s cock. John picked up the pace, brushing over Sherlock’s prostate with every hard thrust. “Harder, please.”

“You want it harder, do you?” John asked. “Aren’t you a needy little cockslut?” Sherlock shuddered around John’s cock, his fingers tightening in the sheets.

“Oh, yes, Sir. Yes, Captain Watson,” he moaned out. John smirked.

“You like it when I call cockslut? A dirty little cockslut?”

“Yes,” Sherlock breathed, the word stretched over a moan. “Please, harder, Captain.” John smiled and gave in, setting a bruising pace. Sherlock gave a yell and arched up off the bed, precome pooling on his stomach where his cock lay.

John thrust hard into him until he felt his stomach tightening and his climax approaching. He reached in between them and took Sherlock’s thick, hot cock in his hand and stroked him three times before, with an explosive shout, Sherlock came all over both of them. The sight of Sherlock, head thrown back in ecstasy and feeling of him clenching around John’s cock was enough to push him over the edge, right after Sherlock. He spilled himself deep into Sherlock with a groan, before collapsing on the bed right next to where Sherlock lay, both of them panting.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” John muttered.

“Sherlock Holmes,” Sherlock corrected with a smirk, “close, though.” John giggled, rolling over to look at Sherlock. Without any hesitation the taller man squirmed his way into John’s arms and tangled their legs together, hold John close. John ran a hand lightly through Sherlock’s hair, wondering why was wasn’t surprised that Sherlock was cuddler.

“Stop,” Sherlock said suddenly, in a strangled voice. John pulled away slightly.

“Stop what?”

“Playing with my hair. It will make things…uncomfortable,” Sherlock said, looking mildly embarrassed. John felt his eyebrows shoot up.

“Are you serious? Right now?” he asked, incredulous. After the orgasm he had had he wouldn’t be able to get it up for at least an hour. Sherlock merely shrugged.

“Not right now, but soon. You underestimate just how…sensitive my scalp is,” he said. All of the sudden, and evil grin erupted onto John’s face.

“There are so many possibilities…so many things to do with that information,” he said, licking his lips with a laugh.

“No,” Sherlock said firmly. “You are not using this against me, I do not permit it.”

“Oh, you don’t _permit_ it, do you? And just what are you going to do to stop me?” John asked with a smirk. Sherlock merely gave his own smirk in reply.

“Oh John, you insult me. As if there were any chance I haven’t already deduced every single thing that turns you on,” he said, looking up at John from underneath thick eyelashes innocently.

“Bastard.”

“Yes, Captain Watson.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking about making this a multi-chapter thing, but I'm not sure about it yet. Let me know what you think!


End file.
